Well that was awkward
by a-trip-to-honeydukes
Summary: I, Kira Jordan, solemnly swear to teach you how not to deal with falling for your best friend. May contain: stalking, sleuthing, snogging, swearing, scottish country dancing and stupidity You have been warned.
1. A defyer of reason

Chapter One

A Defyer of Reason

Wazzup? Kira Jordan in da hizzle! Sorry about that. Who am I? As my friend Roxy puts it I am a defyer of reason. The main reason for this is that you know all those really easy subjects that everyone just takes for a skive? Yeah, well I'm crap at those. And you know those subjects that everyone just swears about and makes them want to burn eternally in hell during exams? Yeah well those are a breeze. Transfiguration? Don't sweat it. Charms? Easy as. Potions? In my sleep. And History of Magic? Oh my god. Seriously? I don't even know how you can't pass History of Magic. Actually, apparently me and this girl Morvin Gracie are the only two people in our year who actually did pass O.W.L History of Magic. And knowing Morvin, and myself, we both got outstandings! This is like totally funny because she's a Hufflepuff and I'm a Gryffindor which means not a single Ravenclaw passed the class and no offence to them or anything and not that this is a bad thing or anything, but they're all like total nerds who spend all their time in the library. And I know that I can't talk after last year where the library practically became my second home, but honestly I don't even think half of them know what sunlight is and the dictionary definition doesn't count.

Actually, come to think of it, it was Roxy who told me that me and Morvin (Morvin and I) were the only two to pass History of Magic and considering we haven't even started sixth year yet I don't see how she could have gone round every single person in our year and asked them. I mean, we got our results in the summer holidays and I know for a fact she hasn't seen anyone except me, Fred, James, Alex, Patrick and Alice since the holidays began.

Besides I know that Leon Barukapinski goes to this really remote island in the Pacific Ocean every summer that isn't accessible by owl because I sat next to him in charms in second year and we got to be quite good friends despite the fact that he's a Slytherin and I remember he always used to tell me how annoying it was because he never got to see his friends and the only owls that could ever find the island were the Hogwarts ones so the only letter he received in the entire summer was the one from Professor Longbottom. So I don't know how she could have asked him whether he passed History of Magic or not. Although knowing Leon, he probably did fail because he was in my History of Magic class last year and I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't know Professor Binns' name – that's how much attention he paid in the class. I only know because I watched him quite a lot. Don't worry not in a creepy way, like when I stared at the back of Fred Weasley's head for four hours solid or that time (those many times) when I practically stalked Morvin Gracie, just because he was the most interesting person in the class to watch.

Sorry, I totally went off in a tangent there (just to warn you, I do that quite a lot) I was going to tell you about my family. Ok, I was an only child until I was five, but then Carter was born. I call him Trolley because I started calling him Cart, but then realised that was American for Trolley so I decided to be British about things and call him Trolley. He's eleven now and finally starting Hogwarts! Then two years later when I was seven Amelie was born, I call her smelly because if you swap the 'A' in her name for an 'S' then that's what she's called. And although she doesn't smell that bad, she doesn't wash that much so when she hits puberty she'll totally live up to her name. Then when I was nine my parents split up (again. They split up when I was three as well, but then they got back together before Trolley was born) and it hit us all pretty hard until my Mum was like, 'wait actually we're not splitting up… I'm pregnant!' so when I was ten, the year before I started at Hogwarts, Daniel was born. I call him midget because, well, he is. As you can imagine that was all a bit of a shock, but my parents have promised me that there's going to be no more kids (thank god) which I can almost believe as midget is six now (scary.)

Anyways, onwards I go… my parents are Alicia Spinnet and Lee Jordan and they're more like friends with benefits than a couple. They're not married or anything and they don't really work as a couple, they're just like two really good friends who live together and have four kids. I think it went a little bit like –

Mum: Shit, I'm pregnant

Dad: Well that's awkward

Mum: Raise the baby with me?

Dad: Why not? I've got nothing better to do.

*5 years later*

Dad: Oh it seems like the baby's still alive. We must be quite good at this. Let's have another one?

Mum: Kira's so angelic and lovely of course I want more

God: More fool you

But I might just say that because I'm a romantic.

Well, moving on… One of the other strange things about my parents is that my Mum is best friends with Roxy and Fred's Mum and my Dad is like best friends with Roxy and Fred's Dad. Which means that two best friends got together with two best friends which, I don't know kind of seems wrong. Like me and James having kids and Alex and Roxy having kids. Which would just be plain wrong.

Although, my Dad and Roxy and Fred's Dad weren't technically best friends at school because Fred and Roxy's dad used to have another best friend. His twin. Fred senior. Who died in the battle of Hogwarts. It's just so sad I mean I literally can't imagine Fred or Roxy without the other one. They're like one person only Fred's hot and Roxy's a bitch. Oh wait, pretend I didn't say that.

BTW, oh dear Merlin, I'm starting to sound like Indie Montgomery who's this girl that thinks we're best friends and calls me babes. She's freaking hilarious. Like for example the other day (I know it's the holidays so it wasn't literally the other day) someone said, 'Is the Pope a Catholic?' and she said, like dead serious, "Who's the Pope?' Not even kidding. She's like the thickest girl I've ever met and yet she's getting straight Os. And they call me a defyer of reason.

Anyway, by the way, I know I've mentioned my friends without actually describing them, but that's because it's the annual back to school party at the Potter's tonight. Oh dear freaking Merlin it's tonight and I haven't even decided what to wear.


	2. Formally known as the jolly gang

Chapter Two

Formally Known as the Jolly Gang

So, every year, the Potter's throw this massive back to school party at their house where they invite like their entire family and friends and their entire family's friends. I think I count as their friends. Or maybe their family's friends. Or I guess friend's family? Oh well, I've been going for years and they're always a blast. Yup I just said blast get over it. What should I be saying? Sick? Dope? Oh well, nobody can say I'm not my own person.

Anyhow, when I last left you I was facing a major dilemma. A dilemma which I have hopefully now solved? I don't know who I'm trying to impress, but you know it's nice to look nice. I know I shouldn't really dress up properly because it's not like that kind of party, but I have gone like totally over board. I'm wearing black pumps which are old, but I am in love with because they fit like completely perfectly, black tights and this dress which I bought this summer and haven't had a reason to wear yet which is absolutely gorgeous. It's strapless and jet black, but with a blood red sash that matches my lipstick. I know it kind of makes me look like death, but I don't particularly care. My hair has random plaits strewn through it and I just have a touch of subtle eyeliner round my green eyes.

I did smelly's hair for her because I felt like being nice and also because she has really nice hair and also because she said I looked pretty. I was a tad pissed when smelly informed me that she wasn't getting changed for the party. Yeah, first she begs me to do her hair which I kindly spend ages on and then she goes to the party in ratty old jeans that I'm pretty sure were once mine, battered converse and a Hello Kitty tee-shirt. That's nine year olds for you.

I was the first to floo there and while I was spinning around like a demented spinny thing I suddenly got absolutely terrified. I sound like an idiot maniac for getting scared to see my friends, but I hadn't seen them in (what at least felt like) ages and I had totally gone over board with the dress and make-up and everything. Why hadn't I done a smelly and gone in jeans and a tee-shirt? Why?

I fell out of the fireplace into Roxy and Patrick. An experience nobody should have to go through. Roxanne Weasley and Patrick Wood have been going out together since third year. They break up regularly, but always get back together several days (at most) later to much sobbing, apologies and public displays of affection (ew) oh and of course the usual pact of 'I missed you so much. Promise we'll never break up again.' 'I promise!'

"I was honestly stupid enough to think that you two were smart enough to not make like octopuses right next to the fireplace that everyone flooed into." I told them.

"The party started like half an hour ago we thought everyone had arrived." Roxy informed me.

"Gee thanks." I said sarcastically.

She shrugged. "I love your dress by the way." She complimented.

I kind of blushed and thanked her before looking at what she was wearing too.

Roxanne has dark skin like her Mum, so she shouldn't be able to pull off her red hair, but she somehow does. It's dark, dark red almost black, but it's red all the same despite the fact that I'm the only one that seems to think that, but like I said I'm my own person. Tonight, she's wearing it down with daisies threaded in it and she's wearing a dress like me, but hers is a green and white. A white vest top and a green skirt with tiny flowers on the fabric. Her legs are bare and she's wearing her green and white striped flip flops. We both have an obsession with making sure everything in our outfit is colour coordinated. It's one of the things that brings us together.

"I love yours too." I grin. "Great colour coordination."

"Yours too I must say." She replies, "Your lipstick's what the exact same shade as the red on your dress?"

"Pretty much." I reply.

"You know, what's really weird." She starts.

"What?" I question her.

"When Fred saw the dress he said 'it matches Kira's eyes' isn't that weird. I thought it was weird. Fred never notices anything."

"Oh," I start, trying desperately not to blush. It's not that I like Fred or anything. He's just a friend. It's just that sometimes when I talk about him I blush and I don't want Roxy to get the wrong idea or something, "Well…"

"Isn't that weird Patrick?" Roxy prompts her boyfriend.

"Oh I don't know." He says, "I suppose it does match Kira's eyes."

"Yeah but," Roxy insists, "oh well," she sighs."

Then smelly came. I don't know what took her so long. Actually she probably freaked out before she left. She's terrified of flooing. I suppose she has good reason too as she didn't land in the fireplace as much as shoot right out of it. Patrick caught her. Much to her delight. She grinned right up at him. Smelly has a strange love for Patrick and he never knows quite what to do with her. He put her sort of awkwardly down (without dropping her – it was quite good of him) and then she grinned up at him again before scurrying off. She's probably gone to go find Alex's youngest sister Holly who she loves because at eleven years old is a 'big girl.' I think Holly quite likes her too because being eleven years old she doesn't often get to be the 'big girl.'

The rest of my family arrive shortly after, but they all leave pretty hurriedly with the exception of trolley who is really quite shy and usually tags around me for a while. I fear for him when he starts Hogwarts. I really don't know how he's going to make a single friend. Yes, something extraordinarily crazy is the fact that Trolley (sometime I capitalize it and sometimes I don't – oh I just like to liven things up don't I?) my ickle wee brotherkins is going to Hogwarts in two day (the party's on the 30th – even the Potter's aren't crazy enough to make it the night before they have to take their kids to school (I'm not sure if drunk flooing is illegal I'm going to have to look that one up.)) Yeah I'll repeat that. My ickle wee brotherkins is coming to Hogwarts. Just how old am I? (Fifteen years and 365 day if you're wondering. Yeah my birthday's tomorrow. Going to be sweet sixteen. I accept presents as well as donations to the Kira Jordan foundation) I honestly cannot believe that another Jordan kid is going to Hogwarts. It's going to be so freakingly awesome et epic. I can finally show someone all the haunts. Except maybe the Alex Carter broom cupboard, yeah you can guess why he has a broom cupboard after him. He can most definitely stay well clear of that for the next 27 years at least.

We (after much begging on my part – I wasn't going to let my 11 year old brother stay in a room with both Roxanne and Patrick – that is one of the many things I am NEVER going to let him experience especially at this young age!) joined the rest of the jolly gang outside in the freezing garden that only James Potter could lead a jolly gang into.

There's eight of us in the jolly gang tonight (for some reason that nickname for my friends is starting to sound really dirty. My mind must have been polluted by Alex.) Firstly myself whom I have already introduced. Then my bestest friend forever and ever or something or other: Roxanne Weasley, you've already met her I guess. Circumstance brings us together in addition to an obsession with colour coordination, an adoration for potions and a phobia of Professor Trelawney and her house of horrors (or the brothel as Alex so charmingly names it although that would make sense to why it's so steamy. Why is my brain so horrible? Why?) Then there is her twin Fred Weasley who is the sweetest, most adorable person ever as well as looking incredibly gorgey with his shirt off. Not that I like him or anything just stating a fact. Fred's like the one I go to to talk about my feelings and shit. He would make a wonderful psychologist or something. He has enough experience with the insane. Then there is Alex Carter who is the one I go to for sexist jokes and the pollution of my mind which are two things I want surprisingly often considering how much I punch him for the sexist jokes and how much I punch him for the pollution of my mind (I'm totally kidding I leave the physical violence up to Roxy.) Alex's best mate is James Potter as in James Potter of Potter house in which I am in (well, more like Potter garden in which I am in if you want to be pedantic, which one most obviously does) James is a quidditch mad moron whose ultimate goal in life is to beat Emilie Small in their raging prank war (he's won the battle, but he ain't won the war) which has been going on between them for like ever. Also to expose her as the leader of the Hogwarts mafia. All the teacher's adore her and she will undoubtedly be head girl next year. You've got to love James, but oh he makes it hard to. I guess James is the one I go to if I want a detention which is also something I want surprisingly often. The last of the Gryffindors who grace my presence tonight is Alice Longbottom who is pretty much adorable. She is so innocent it isn't even funny only it is really funny. I love her so much. Her and Fred are the only two nice ones in the jolly gang (nope, I can't call it that anymore) She is the kind of girl who will get herself killed for saving a spider. She should be a Disney princess only her dad would never let her get married to a Disney prince or any prince or anyone really. It's is really good that she's the one with a parent that owns a pub because if it was anyone else we would all be dead. I mean that in the sort of way like not really but kind of. Alice's kind of best friend is Patrick Wood as in Patrick Wood who was making like an octopus with Roxanne earlier. When we were younger like first through fourth year when Alice was too scared to speak to any of the rest of us (who can honestly blame her) Patrick was like her only friend. She only started hanging out with us because Roxrick/ Patxanne? Became a thing and she kind of had to and it was still a year before she actually said a word. I am so sorry Patrick I have just talked about Alice for your entire segment of the Kira show. Damn too bad. Just kidding I'm going to talk about you now. Ho ho hum. Patrick is a Ravenclaw and really smart (not at History of Magic *cough* *cough* just saying) in a gawky sort of way. He's kind of a gawky sort of boy in a nice way. No I love Patrick though, he is a genious at guessing Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Bean flavour so you gotta love him for that and he steals Filch's sign so… Ya he's pretty darn awoosome. The last of the eight (that was eight right?) is Clementine Mackenzie. She's a Ravenclaw also, but plenty crazy enough to be a Gryff. Clementine is basically one of fifteen kids. I say basically because four of them are her cousins that live with her, but she does have ten siblings. Yes. I freaking know. I love this girl. She's like Cheaper by the Dozen only better.

"So hey kiddywinks, hows the party getting along?" I ask the crew.

"It was good until you came." Says Alex and I laugh, "Now that is something which most definitely cannot be true." I insist.

"Hey Clementine!" I greet the only friend I haven't seen yet all Summer. "I didn't know you were coming. How's your holiday been?" I ask.

"Good." She nods, "I have been doing a lot of going to the park and dressing up as a fairy which as you know are two of my favourite hobbies."

"I do indeed." I reply.

"Is this Carter?" she asks me pointing at my brother and I nod, "Yeah he's eleven." I tell her.

"Ooh really?" she directs at him excitedly. "So you're just going to Hogwarts?"

He nods, shyly.

"My brother Icharus is just going as well! That's so awesome. Hey do you want to meet him? He's hanging around here somewhere…"

"Do I have to?" he whispers to me so only I can here.

"You should," I whisper back, "You don't need to become friends or anything. But it'd be nice for you to know someone already."

"Ok." He says to Clementine, really quietly. "I'd like to meet him."

She grins, "Coolio! Kira want to come."

I nod, pleased with trolley. This is a really big step for him.

"So are you pleased with your O. ?" I ask Clementine on the way back to the crew (formally known as the jolly gang.)

"Yeah," she grins, "I'm pretty damn pleased. I did get a troll in history of magic after all."

"Yes! Thank god. I'm not the only one that got a troll in something. All of the others were making so much fun of me."

"What's yours for." She laughs.

"Divination." I sigh and she laughs again.

"I can't believe I didn't take that subject. It sounds fucking amazing. Sorry about all the swearing. I've been with little kids all summer and so I'm like totally deprived."

"What else did you get?" she asks me.

"Outstandings for charms, transfig, history of magic and potions. Exceeds Expectations for Arithmancy and DADA, acceptable for astronomy and dreadful for Herbology." I tell her.

"Only you could get an outstanding for history of magic." She tells me.

"What else did you get?" I ask her.

"Oh all outstandings." She says sheepishly.

"You utter bitch." I reply and we both laugh.


	3. The death of a Weasley hand

Chapter Three

The Death of a Weasley Hand

The Potters are really nice people (willing to be quoted for witch weekly.) Every year, for as long as I can remember (or since Teddy Lupin went to Hogwarts which is as long as the annual back to school party has been going on for) they've gotten everyone to crowd into their living room to sing happy birthday for me and then they always bring out a cake which I know is there own and not one my parents have brought because that would involve my parents actually having to remember when my birthday is. This year it's chocolate cake which is my all time favourite type of cake (and totally beats last year – fruit cake – what the hell were they thinking?)

This is one of the nicest things about having my birthday be my birthday. I always get to celebrate it with my friends AND family. Anyhoo I have nothing more to say about my birthday except I am now sixteen so YAHOO!

Also I got some really nice boots from my parents as they say there's no point giving me boots for Christmas as winter will already have been going on for like a month.

James had also forgotten it was my birthday. Thanks James. Thanks. Actually come to think of it I don't remember his. Some time in March, maybe?

Anyway I will continue on to tell you about trolley's sorting as nothing really happened until then. Actually I say nothing really happened, but I mean nothing really good happened. I will summarise. August 31st – my birthday. It was quite nice, but it rained, but then there was a rainbow so it was nice again. September 1st – back to school. I left packing to the last minute which like always was a big mistake. Leaving smelly and midget and the parental units would have been sad if they weren't inclined to embarrass me to death. Trolley ditched me on the train to find his new best bud Icharus Mackenzie (only the Mackenzie's could have a kid named Icharus.) Yup ditched by an eleven year old. That was pretty awkward. Then I accidently walked in on Alex and Rowan Mackintosh in the year below 'getting closure.' That was pretty horrible. Finally I found my friends and they had replaced me with none other than Carter Jordan. Yup first he ditches me and then he steals me friends. Gee wiz thinks trolley. I find you a new best bud and this is how you thank me? You ungrateful wretch. Anyway he finally left, but Roxanne and Patrick had to go as well for prefect duty (yeah someone made Roxanne a prefect – What. The. Hell. ? when she told me last year I almost had a freaking heart attack.) So then there was only me, Clementine, Alice, James and Fred because Alex still hadn't returned (thank god – not sure I could have looked him in the eye.) Then who should turn up, but Indie Montgomery? (Actually that was the best think that happened all day pretty much) Indie was perfectly pleasant for her – bitching was minimal and she didn't say LOL once.

So that pretty much brings us to now. Thankfully I'm seated _next_ to Alex so I don't actually have to look him in the eye. Roxy is on my other side and I am squeezing her hand so hard with nerves for my brother that I won't be surprised if by the time his names called she won't have a hand left at all. I have decided to forgive my little trolley dearest as I am sure he just lost me on the train and then found my friends to ask where I was. (Not an entirely sound theory, but the one I am sticking by.)

"They're lining up." I hiss to Roxy.

"I know." She replies irritably, "My eyes still work even if my right hand isn't going to when you're done with it."

"Sorry," I tell her. "I'm just so scared."

"You're so funny Kira." Alex laughs at me. "All he has to do is wear a stupid hat."

"Yeah because you weren't like this at all last year when it was Poppy's sorting." James sniggers. "Although you don't seem to care now that it's Holly."

"Hey," Alex complains, "I wasn't holding your hand last year - that would just be weird. Besides Poppy was the strange child and she got sorted into Gryffindor so I don't feel the need to worry about Holly it's not like she's going to end up in Hufflepuff."

"Hey my Mum was in Hufflepuff." Alice protests.

"And look how you turned out." Says Alex and she glares at him. Only it's Alice so her glares are more like puppy-dog eyes.

"If looks could kill." Alex snorts.

"Shut up they're starting." I hiss.

"Avery, Bridget." Calls Professor Portcullis and an overly eager blond girl runs up to the stool tripping up a few times on the way, but keeping an ecstatic grin on her face.

"Hufflepuff." Both James and Alex simultaneously.

"Hufflepuff." Shouts the hat and the girl scurries over to the Hufflepuff table where I spot Morvin welcoming her. God, I love Morvin.

"Blackadder, John," Professor Portcullis announces and the hall claps politely when he's sorted in to Ravenclaw.

"Carter, Holly," says Professor Portcullis and Alex gives a little yelp much to James' amusement.

Alex's sister, a tall (for an eleven year old so about 1 inch,) skinny girl with a ginger bob scurries up to the stool with a nervous grin on her face. By the time she puts the hat on her head Alex is clawing at the table.

The hat pauses only for a second, "Hufflepuff!" it announces and Alex jumps about a foot in the air.

"What the hell?" he protests.

"Oh shut up Alex." Says James, "At least she's not a Slytherin."

Alex calms down significantly at that, "I suppose," he sighs.

By the time it's got to the Js my heart is jumping so hard it could be a leprechaun.

Caroline Johnson is sorted into Slytherin (to much booing on James, Alex and Roxanne's parts – yes I am sorry to admit three of my best friends are severe racists. Housists? Slytherinists? Hmm. Well they are most definitely meanie poos.) and then it's trolley.

"Jordan, Carter," says Professor Portcullis and I bite my tongue. This is it the moment of truth.

Trolley walks up slowly to the stool with his eyes fixed to the floor. He puts it on his head and it falls down to cover his eyes. At first the hall is in silence, but they start to get bored as the hat remains silent. Oh god What if he's not sorted at all? What if they just send him home and say whoops we made a mistake? This is even more terrifying than my own sorting. Thank god he's the only one of my siblings whose sorting I will actually watch. If I had to go through this trauma twice more I think I would almost literally die. Or at least Roxanne's hand would.

"Gryffindor." Says the hat and I gasp. It's OK he's been sorted. I can die happy.

He practically sprints over to the Gryffindor table and scrambles in to the first seat he can find. I don't blame him. His sorting was practically record time.

I start to relax as the rest of first years are placed into a house. Jane Westerfield, a small, tanned girl with a mess of curly brown hair, is the second last to be sorted and squeezes herself in next to Carter at the Gryffindor table.

"Thank god that's over," says Roxanne.

"I thought you liked the sorting?" Alice replies, surprised.

"Yeah," says Roxy, "But my hand doesn't."


	4. Really hot and age appropriate

Chapter Four

Really Hot and Age Appropriate

So something I have been looking forward to for like the longest of times is choosing my N.E. . Other than naming Roxanne and Patrick's children for them (something they will truly thank me for one day) and worrying the hell out of my insanity about Carter going to Hogwarts, it has been pretty much the thing that held the majority of my brain space for the entirety of the summer holidays. I enjoy a long leisurely breakfast the morning of the second of September as Professor Longbottom makes his way through the sixth year Gryffindors sorting out our timetables for us. Well I say long and leisurely, but it doesn't actually take that long because there isn't actually that many of us. What takes the longest time is in fact his argument with Alice about her taking Herbology (she doesn't want to - he really really wants her to.) If you hadn't worked it out with the shared surnames and everything – Professor Longbottom (teacher of Herbology and head of Gryffindor) is Alice's Dad. Usually they are the sweetest father/ daughter duo ever, but it seems she has been keeping the news that she doesn't want to further her Herbology education to herself all summer. The thing is Alice is actually a total genius at Herbology (something I don't understand in a person,) but she doesn't like it (something I can totally understand in a person.) Finally (sadly with no duelling involved) Mr Longbottom (I call him Mr. When he's in Alice's dad mode and Professor when he's on teacher mode) caves in and lets her take the subjects she wants. I'm after Alice as I was sitting next to her. Yes in Gryffindor we don't go in alphabetical order we go by where we happen to be sitting (it's much more effective I have to say.)

"So Kira, I see you have a lot of options." He tells me, examining my grades. "Even if your Herbology grade is…" he tails off.

"I would like to take Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic and Arithmancy if that's Ok?" I ask him.

"That sounds alright." He tells me, quilling me in a timetable. "I presume you have all the required equipment and books."

"Yes." I tell him.

"Well we're definitely going to miss your humour over in Herbology," he tells me, "Even if your attitude left something to be desired."

"Sorry," I say blushing, "When I don't understand something I kind of give up."

"Well that's something your going to need to improve on." he informs me (not for the first time.)

"Yes Professor Longbottom." I tell him as angelically as possible (which is pretty angelically if I do say so myself.)

"Ok then, here's your timetable." He tells me, handing it over.

"Yes!" I squeal after examining it. "Double potions!"

He looks at me like I am a little insane and moves on to Roxanne.

I wait for Roxy at the doorway of the great hall as I know she's planning on taking potions as well (at least I know she bought the textbook and I seriously hope it wasn't for just a bit of light reading) and we walk down to the dungeon together comparing timetables. As it turns out potions is the only class we actually share including all five of the free periods we both get each week. How unfair is that? I'm probably going to have to end up doing work in them or something.

There's about fifteen of us or so in the potions class and Professor Shacklebolt (yup our potions master is the American cousin of the minister for magic – how awesome is that!?) lets us choose our own seats so me and Roxy join Indie and a terrified looking James.

"Look!" Indie instantly exclaims as soon as we sit down. "Me and James are in all the same classes isn't that amazing?" she continues shoving two timetables in our faces.

'Kill me now' James mouths at me and I hand the timetables back at Indie with a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. I love Indie and all, but she's in three of my classes for the next two years. Oh dear god.

I glance round the classroom and spot Clementine at another of the tables with Beatriz Chang and Devon Zabini and am instantly jealous. Beatriz is a Gryffindor like me and she is so nice, plus she's a potions genius. Devon's in Slytherin and she's hilarious as well as knowing ALL of the gossip. I am utterly tempted to ditch Roxy (and James and Indie, but I don't care about them as much – no offence James) and join Clementine, Beatriz and Devon when Felix Duck, the bastard, arrives and takes the only empty seat at their table.

Potions is one of my favourite classes and I've been reading and rereading my copy of Advanced Potion Making ever since I bought it and to my delight we are making the draught of living death today. Something you need in a class with Professor Shacklebolt as the teacher is the ability to multitask. He's great at explaining things when you need help, but he also talks non-stop for the entire lesson (the majority of which is completely off topic, but he's great banter so we can't complain.) I will warn you in advanced the draught of living death is no easy feat. It's one of the potions that I've actually gone through in my head several times (yes I am a sad, sad girl) and it is nothing like how I imagined.

At the end of the period (second period as it's a double) I'm clearing out my cauldron next to Devon at the sink.

"Where's Georgia Fisher?" I ask her, "I would have thought she'd be in this class." I say referring to a roommate of Devon's and James' nemesis on the quidditch pitch.

"Haven't you heard?" she gasps,

"No, what?"

"Georgia's left."

"What?" I exclaim.

"Yeah I know. She isn't here and the teachers have kept it all hushed up so I think it's something scandalous."

"Oh my god!" I exclaim. "Seriously?"

"Miss Jordan if you aren't willing to share the gossip then I'll have to force you to leave. Miss Weasley is waiting for you." Says Professor Shacklebolt and I notice that while I've been taking with Devon, most of the class has left for break. The reason Roxanne hasn't approached us is that she refuses to speak to Devon because she is a housist bitch.

"Sorry Professor." I say,

"What's your next class?" I ask Devon, hurriedly before leaving trying to work ot when I'll see her next.

"Free period." She tells me, grinning.

"Aw, I've got History of magic, but I'll see you later."

"Yeah." She agrees and I leave with Roxanne, (who is tutting would you believe it?"

"So what's the gossip?" Roxy asks me as soon as we've left Devon's earshot.

"You know you could just speak to her." I say to her to which she just rolls her eyes. I stay silent for a little bit to teach her a lesson but eventually give in because I am not much one for keeping other people's secrets and besides everyone's going to work it out pretty soon anyway.

"OK fine," I start, "Georgia Fisher's left the school and apparently it's something scandalous only Devon doesn't know what."

"Oh my god!" she exclaims just as we're approaching the rest of our group in the corridor that we usually sit in at break time.

"Oh my god what?" asks Alex who is a total gossip.

"Georgia Fisher has left the school and it's apparently something scandalous only nobody knows what. Devon told Kira in Potions."

"Do you think she was expelled?" is Alex's initial reaction.

"I'm sure it's nothing scandalous." Says Fred.

"Yeah," chips in Alice. "She could have just moved."

"But the thing is Ally Bally." Starts Alex (Alice frowns at him – she hates the nickname,) "This is a boarding school."

"Wait we all know what this means." James tells us.

"What?" I ask ignorantly pulling out a snack from my bag. (What I get hungry? So I take extra food at breakfast. I can't last the four and a half hours till lunch that's lik r)

"With Fisher gone we're a shoe in for quidditch cup." Roxanne informs me.

"Oh," I say.

"What?" asks Alice who is completely oblivious to the world of Quidditch.

"Fisher's the reason Slytherin beat us last year." James tells her slowly (it's the only way she'll understand,) "That and Calub's crap coaching skills. Thank god it's me this year. We're bound to win."

"Modest much." I snigger.

"Speaking of Calub, when are tryouts for the new beater?" Roxy asks James.

James shrugs, "Next weekend? I'll put a sign up in the common room."

"Do any of you guys fancy trying out?" Roxy directs.

"You know I can only play chaser!" I protest.

"Yeah and I'd much rather date the team than play for it," says Alex, "much less work."

James thumps him.

"What?" asks Alex.

"That's my sister you're talking about!"

"Yeah," Roxanne, "You've just declared you want to date two of James' twelve year old sister, her equally twelve year old friend, Lucy who not only is my cousin but would never go out with you in a million years and me, not to mention James and Fred."

Alex shudders, "Please say the new beater is going to be someone really hot and age appropriate."


	5. When the rain falls down

Chapter Five

When the rain falls down

"I forget how you play quidditch." Says Alice as we sit down in the stands to watch the beater tryouts. My god this is going to be a long day.

"Well Alice," I say, "Watch and learn."

It was a stupid thing to say because they're not actually playing quidditch, but oh well it shut her up for the time being.

James is being all teachery. It's piss annoying. He even has a freaking whistle which would be too much to bear if it wasn't so hilarious. He keeps strutting around the pitch and pointing at people and saying things. All the hopefuls are hovering in this sort of ring and hitting the bludger to each other. It's basically donkey only rather than getting six letters, you're out as soon as you miss it. I suppose it is actually quite a good way of picking out the ones with aim using pretty minimal effort on James' part, but for the audience (namely me) it's as boring as a non-practical Herbology lesson.

Alex is rooting for Kyla Bishop in the year below. She's actually pretty good, but obviously that's not why Alex wants her to get beater.

He screams at James when Kyla misses the bludger and of course being the animal he is goes to 'comfort' her.

Alex actually disgusts me.

"Just us then Ally Bally," I say to Alice who scowls at me,

"I swear this isn't how quidditch was played this year." She tells me and I just pat her on the head.

The position goes to Lucie Duquette in fourth year. I'm pretty pleased for her. I know Lucie from around and she's really nice which in my opinion means she deserves it. It's kind of anti-climactical though as it just ended with some guy missing the bludger and James going 'alright then, welcome to the team.'

It was lunchtime though so that was nice.

"So what do you think of Lucie?" I ask Roxy as I tuck into my bacon roll.

"Well she was the best." She shrugs,

"It was a bit of a rubbish tryout don't you think?"

"Yeah," she agrees, "It really was."

"So what are you dudes doing this afternoon?" says Clementine, approaching our table.

"How have you finished your lunch already?" James asks her, tucking into his sixth bacon roll.

"Because I'm a Ravenclaw." She tells him "Anyway answer my question."

"Me and Patrick are meeting up and going for a walk by the Black Lake," says Roxanne, dreamily.

"Whatever floats your boat." Clementine and I say at the same time before laughing and high fiving.

"What about the rest of you bitches?" she asks us.

"I'm infiltrating behind enemy lines," Alex informs us looking proud.

"Translation: he's trying to get valid information on Emilie Small from her bodyguard." Says James.

Clementine raises an eyebrow.

"Chloe Mathews." I submit.

"I'm back up." Says James.

The rest of us end up on the astronomy tower, aimlessly chatting, snacking and dropping things off it. I want to know if it's true that you can kill someone if you drop a knut off it and it hits them (*cough* Roxanne.) Alice won't let me try though so instead I have to resort to my own spit which the wind keeps on blowing back at my face. I'm real mature, I know.

Clementine leaves at about six for the Saturday night Ravenclaw quiz (I know – It sounds like the awesomest thing ever to grace the face of the universe. You wouldn't believe the number of times I've tried to sneak in, but the bouncer is the Ravenclaw keeper – a big burly guy in the year above and I have never managed to get passed him. Alice leaves at the same time making up some excuse about homework or seeing Patrick, I think she's ditching us, but I can't be sure why.

After they leave, Fred produces a packet of Bertie Bott's from his pocket.

"I thought we'd finished all the sweets?" I say taking one.

"You thought wrong." He replies with a grin.

"That's why I love you Fred Weasley. Just when I begin to think that there is no more sugar to be had you go and produce a packet of my favourite Vegetarian friendly sweets."

He smiles at me shyly as if I had given him the nicest compliment in the world.

"This is nice." he tells me.

"What flavour is it?" I ask him.

"No I mean this" he gestures, "You and me. We never seem to get to spend any time just the two of us."

I smile "No that bitch Roxy always seems to be there spoiling our fun."

He laughs and then passes me the packet of beans. I grab a few and shove them in my mouth before wincing. I swallow them hastily, gagging at the after taste. "Liquorice" I tell him as way of explanation.

"I feel for you." He says, "I'd take bogy any day over liquorice. I still don't understand who it is that buys Honeyduke's Liquorice wands. They're disgusting."

"I agree wholeheartedly. I've always found the bogy one's kind of nice."

"Too far." He tells me. "You're just disgusting."

We fall in to a comfortable silence after that. Sitting side by side watching the stars. I almost forget that all we are is just friends. It feels like something more sitting with him in this way. I feel like I could stay here forever, that it would be enough just to know that he was by my side. I love all of my friends dearly and probably equally all in their different ways but I don't think I have ever enjoyed any of their silence before. The kind of silence I'm used to is awkward, a lull in the conversation because you've run out of things to say to each other. It's boring, painful even, but with Fred it's beautiful. I feel enveloped in him and the sky and the stars and my own thoughts and before I realise myself I have leaned over and taken his hand. It's a hand I know well from thumb wars and high fives and games of tig, but I have never realised it was so big, his fingers are long and slender – pianist's fingers, not that he plays, although I can imagine it – and his skin is silky smooth. I can't bear to think what my own hands feel like. Sticky probably from and afternoon of chocolate and sweets and sweaty with the nerves of what I've just done.

I can only fear to think he's thinking. What the hell are you doing Kira Jordan? Get your sweaty palms away from me. I grab my hand back in fear. Oh god what did I do that for?

"Sorry." I stammer.

He's blushing.

"Sorry." He echoes.

We both stop talking again, looking at each other with panicked glances. All I can hear is the sound of Fred's breathing and it's nice. The sky is cloaked around us like we're in a snow globe and the stars dotted above us like the glitter.

A cool breeze whips our hair and thunder starts to rumble.

"It's going to rain." He says, looking into my eyes again, my heart races.

I nod. "Good thing we're not the wicked witch of the east."

He doesn't give me that look that people give me a lot. That look which just says 'what the hell are you talking about?' That's one of the things I love about Fred Weasley. He always makes you feel like you've said something important. That every word that comes out of your mouth matters.

Instead he gives me a look which I've only seen on his face once before. I didn't know what it meant then, but I think I do know.

It starts to rain. Falling in sheets around the tower, the wind splattering it into our faces, but neither of us looks away.

Our lips meet and nothing else matters until it does and then everything changes.


	6. A meeting with the sexist ginger

Chapter Six

A meeting with the sexist ginger

"I love you, that's the problem, I love you so so much." I say, trying desperately not to cry. "So much it hurts." I add, "But what about when we break up? Where will that leave me?"

"Don't say that. I love you. You love me? What's the problem?" Fred replies.

"But if I love you anymore I might lose you. And I would never get over it. Not ever Fred. I can't let you break my heart."

"But you're breaking mine right now." is all I here as I run away.

I was the one who did a runner. Way to break the gender stereotypes I know, but I was scared shitless and I didn't even know why. So I ran, without even thinking about it. And that was the thing, not the kiss, that caused all the problems. Me. And my stupid freaking legs.

You know that cliché in like everything ever ever when someone runs and runs until they get to like this awesome place or something? Yeah? Well that didn't happen to me. I ran down the stairs and I made it most of the way along the corridor and then I had to stop because I panting so hard. Attractive, don't I know it?

Don't get me wrong I can walk like really quickly, like four time as quick as anyone else I've ever met, but as soon as I start running all hell breaks lose and my lungs collapse.

"Hey hot stuff."

I turn around. Yes, ladies and gentleman, there's another ginger on the block lusting after Kira Jordan. And you guessed it. He's eleven.

"Oh dear Merlin, please tell me this is a nightmare. I can't even decide whether to smack you, run screaming or give you a lecture on feminism."

He shrugs. "Any is fine with me." He says with a grin.

I am so disturbed right now. Literally so disturbed.

"Oh hey Kira," says none other than my brother coming around the corner, "There you are Fergus." He adds.

Yup, the ginger is named Fergus. And he is friends with my brother.

"You are joking me." I sigh. "You finally make a friend and it's a sexist ginger. This is bloody typical."

Trolley at least has the decency to blush. Which is more than I can say about 'Fergus' if that even is his real name, which it probably is.

"What do you mean?" Trolley starts, "I've got loads of friends," he continues, glancing at Fergus, awkwardly.

"Right, sorry, of course." I say, covering up for him whilst trying not to laugh.

"What do you even have against gingers anyway?" says Fergus. "We have souls too you know."

I laugh, "Sure…"

"Yeah what do you have against ginger people, Kira? Isn't your boyfriend one?"

I can't tell if he's trying to make a joke or if he saw me and Fred kissing on the astronomy tower. My heart races, but not in a good way.

"I don't have a boyfriend." I tell the two eleven year olds.

"Calm it. I was joking." Carter tells me. "I meant Fred."

God he is so annoying.

"Well the difference between Fred and young Fergus here is that Fred's awesome and Fergus is a small, ferociously disturbing idiot and whatever Fred's hot and if you tell me he's standing right behind me I will cry. I will literally cry."

"He's standing right behind you." Says Trolley.

I turn around. He wasn't lying.

"Fred!" I say, blushing furiously and achieving the inevitable of falling on my face.

"Hey," he says, blushing also, but having the courtesy to pull me off the ground.

"Meet the sexist ginger." I say pointing at Fergus. "You will soon learn my brother has excellent taste in friends."

Fergus actually offers his hand for Fred to shake. "You must be the hot one." He says sniggering.

If possible I blush further. It must be possible because Fred does too.

"Yeah you guys can shoo by the way." I direct at the eleven year olds.

They do, hastily (probably because I am giving them my elusive evil glare) but Fergus sniggers again.

"Well that was awkward." I say. "So were you here for a chat or did you just have the misfortune to pass by?"

"The former." He tells me, with a shifty smile.

"I just wanted to apologise for kissing you and for thinking that you meant anything by holding my hand and to ask you where all of that leaves us now."

I shrug and sit down (yes on the floor, no I'm not a dog.) Fred joins me folding his long legs into cross legged.

"I don't know." I sigh. "I honest to Merlin don't know."

"Me either." He sighs in agreement.

"I'm sorry too," I tell him, "By the way."

"About breaking my heart or trampling on it?" He jokes, oh god at least I think he's joking.

I raise an eyebrow.

"Sorry," he sighs. "Maybe we should just give each other some space for the time being."

"Maybe," I say, space is not what I want, but I'm not so sure what I want anymore. I told Fred I loved him and I think it might be true, but then I ran away from him so I can't love him all as much as I told him I did. I want him to be a part of my life. He's one of my best friends and there is no way I want to lose him, but then I'm not sure if I will be able to spend time with him ever again without remembering that kiss and how it made me feel.

"Report back to each other when either of us has figured out what the hell is going on?" he asks me.

I nod.

He makes to leave, "And Kira?" he asks me, turning round to look me in the eyes.

"Yeah?" I reply. "Do you mind if we don't, you know, tell anyone else?"

I smile, "That is something I definitely do not mind doing." I say, "They will all take the bloody piss.

I hear him laugh, faintly, as he walks away.

I remain on the floor. Sitting Cross legged. Trying and failing to fight back tears. I am an emotional wreck. An emotional flying carpet wreck. The optimum of the wrecked emotional vehicles. Not only have I crashed; I wasn't supposed to be flying in the first place because I am illegal in Britain and Ireland.

"Kira?"

I jump. At first I think it's Fred come back to save my sanity, but it's not. It's Alice.

"Are you okay?" she continues.

"Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay? I am the optimum of okayness. I mean it's not like I'm a flying carpet or something is it? I'm not illegal in Britain or Ireland. I haven't crashed. I am not even a train."

"Well, you're crying." She says. "And you're sitting on the floor." She continues. "And you're talking to yourself about flying carpets."

"Shit. Was that out loud?" I ask her.

She bites her lip and nods, "Afraid so."

"Did something happen between you and Fred?" she asks me, god what does she know? Why did she really disappear off so quickly this evening? Has Alice been the puppeteer behind us this whole time?

"No." I say a little too hastily.

"It's fine. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, but if you need anything just let me know."

"Thanks Alice." I say, "I'm fine though. I really am."

"Do you mind if we go back to the common room then?" she asks me, "It's just I've got a Defence against the Dark Arts essay I need to get done."

I nod and tell her that it's okay and we walk back to the common room in a comfortable silence.

Fred's there when we arrive, sitting by the fire with Alex, James and Roxy and I realise that I really can't face any of them.

"To be honest Alice, I think I'm just going to head to bed. Do you mind telling the others?" I ask her.

She looks at Fred then back at me. "Sure," she says, "You are alright though aren't you?"

"Yeah," I sigh, "I'm just peachy."


	7. An essence of owl shit

Chapter Seven

An essence of owl shit

November brings with it an innocent (sure Kira, whatever you say) reason to stare at Fred. The Quidditch season has begun and to kick it off in a totally not clichéd way, the first match is Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Oh how they love to watch us hex each other in the corridors (not naming any names, but Roxanne. Always Roxanne.)

I am watching the match squashed between Alice and Alex. Paddy and Clem (you know who I mean) refuse to sit with us on moral grounds. Clementine's on the Ravenclaw quidditch team so she says she can't be seen fraternising with the enemy (yeah, you and I both know that we're not playing Ravenclaw, but Clementine doesn't seem to) and Patrick and Roxanne are currently broken up (some shit about not respecting her views as a feminist) so he is supporting Slytherin. The great thing about Alice and Alex is that neither of them is ever going to notice me staring at Fred. Alice is too busy attempting to understand the game and Alex is too busy being, well being Alex, who knows what goes on inside his brain? Even still though, I keep doing that awkward thing where you realise that you've been staring at someone so long that there's no way in hell that they haven't noticed, so you start slyly making it look like you are just looking at everyone. That's me. One sly dog.

As you might have perhaps guessed, Fred and I have been kind of awkward around each other these past few months. It started with the kiss, but it didn't exactly help when I ran away like a loon and it didn't help even more when neither of us mentioned it after that awkward as hell talk in the corridor. Not to each other and I certainly haven't mentioned it to anyone else. We've been dancing around each other, avoiding each other's gaze and trying hard not to blush for two months. Oh the fun we have.

I've kept myself occupied though. I took up a few hobbies to fill up my time; tutoring first years, stalking Morvin Gracie, doing my homework (desperate times call for desperate measures,) stalking Leon Barukapinski, developing my inner eye, attempting to solve the mystery that is Georgia Fisher's disappearance, being stalked by the sexist ginger. You know the kind of fun that a girl of sixteen can have in the halls of Hogwarts.

Alice has definitely figured out about the whole Fred malarkey. She keeps trying to leave the two of us alone together and asking me how I am with a very pointed look. I'm truly surprised that nobody else seems to have though. I know James and Alex are guys and probably couldn't care less anyway and I know that Clementine's a Ravenclaw so doesn't spend as much time with us and Patrick has been avoiding Roxanne and I don't know him that well anyway, but has Roxy honestly not noticed anything? I mean I'm her best friend. Fred's her twin brother. Together we spend almost every waking hour with her when she's not with Patrick or in a class we don't share. I actually spend all my sleeping hours with her too considering you know the whole shared dormitory thing. She hasn't mentioned anything though. Not a thing. Not even a funny look or a raised eyebrow (not that she can raise one eyebrow – Roxy 0, Kira 1.) Unless Fred's said something to her and so she's not being weird around me on purpose. No Roxanne Weasley is a serious gossip. She would have said something. Wouldn't she? Oh I don't know any more. I'll tell you one thing though. I wish I'd brought my book on goblin rights in the eighteenth century. This quidditch match is seriously dull.

Oh my god, seriously spoke to soon. James was just hit by a bludger and did some weird sort of flip thing and is now hanging from his broom one handed. Tense stuff. Alice has grabbed my hand and is squeezing it with intent to make it fall off. Now I know how Roxy felt when I was awaiting Carter's sorting. And Alex keeps screaming at James to get back on his broom.

Ooh Roxy just scored a goal! I feel like a celebrity. Not really. I am screaming majorly for her and doing a dance. An awkward sort of can-can with Alex and Alice (or Al squared if it makes it easier for you.) and then we all remember James who is still hanging from his broom, though with two hands now at least. To make matters worse Devon Zabini (who is one of Slytherin's chasers) now has possession of the ball and is making her way along the pitch towards James who is frantically trying to get back onto his broom. The crowd is going crazy, people screaming at James, at Devon, even Lily Potter has stopped her search for the snitch and is watching her brother intently.

Devon makes a feint for the left goal post and then throws the quaffle towards the right. It flies through the air in an elegant arch making its way to the goal. James dives for the ball, grabbing his broom in one hand and smacking the quaffle downwards. It lowers its place in the air and James kicks it out of the way of the goal towards Lucy Weasley who catches is neatly and takes the opportunity to score another goal for Gryffindor. The crowd goes wild. Alex, Alice and I jump in the air yelling like mad things (which we are) and Alice finally lets go of my hand.

Somehow James manages to heave himself back up onto his broomstick in time for another bludger to skim his face. Lucie Duquette chases it, and hits it with a thud towards Devon who swerves to avoid it, missing her opportunity to tackle Roxy who has just caught the ball off Lucy and is making a beeline towards the Slytherin goal posts.

The Slytherin keeper catches the ball, but passes it to his team sloppily and Roxy manages to get a hold of it again. She dodges the chaser and lobs the quaffle back towards the goal post. It skims the keeper's out stretched hands and rolls into the goal.

I throw myself into the air, almost toppling into the third year in front of me, "Go Roxy!" I shriek through the crowd.

The game ends with a ferocious scrabble for the snitch. The Slytherin seeker is good, really good, pulling out an impressive series of dips, dives and rolls, but Lily's smaller, speedier and it's like she can anticipate their every move.

The Slytherin seeker stretches out her arm just a moment to early and she falters, pushed off balance. Lily arches her back teetering on the front of her broom, her arm sweeps the air and grasps the snitch in one graceful movement and Gryffindor wins the game.

I am numb for just a second, unable to comprehend the victory, but then Alex pulls me to my feet in glee.

"We won!" he's screaming and I join him and Alice in another victory dance.

"We won. We won. We won." Alice is saying over and over again as if she can't take it in either.

"Yeah we did." I say and we exchange manic grins.

The players file back into their changing rooms and the crowd squeezes its way out of the stands. Usually an 'impromptu' party breaks out after a Quidditch win and this time is no different. We lose Alex somewhere in the crowd so me and Alice make our way up to the Gryffindor common room alone, grabbing drinks and sitting down for a chat.

"So Ally Bally," I begin – she frowns at me, of course – "What do you think about the mysterious disappearance of Georgia Fisher?"

"I don't know Kira, stop asking me. She's entitled to her privacy isn't she?"

"Maybe…" I reply, "Or maybe she has been kidnapped and only by investigating her disappearance will we be able to save her!"

"Maybe, I suppose." She says kindly (she is obviously humouring me.)

"What about you though Kira? How are things? Are you okay?" she asks me – I told you she would given the chance.

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" I respond, slightly defensively.

"It's just I can tell you're hurting and I just want to help."

"I'm not hurting. Why would you say that?"

"I can tell how you feel about him and you don't need to talk if you don't want to, but I just think it might help."

I blush furiously, "I'm going to the owellery." I tell her hurriedly. "I'll see you later."

"but Kira," she starts as I walk off. "you don't have an owl."

So Alice definitely knows. I know she can keep a secret and she would never make fun of me, but I just wish she would stop quizzing me about it.

Although it was just an excuse to not answer Alice's question I decide that I will go to the owellery after all. I'm feeling all messed up and confused and it's a good place to go when you're feeling like that.

The owellery is empty (apart from the owls obviously) which I am very, very grateful for. I just sit their sniffing in the strange scent of musty old castle and owl shit (not too bad if I'm perfectly honest – I might even consider wearing it as a perfume – I could call it an essence of owl shit – it would most definitely catch on)

I don't think I'm ready to go back to the party. In fact I think I am ready to get my book back out. Thank you goblin rebellions, you know how to get me out of my depression.

I don't even manage to finish my page before I hear footsteps. I jump, hiding my book and grabbing a random owl. Better to be the crazy animal girl than the girl that left a party to read her book on goblin rebellions in the eighteenth century. Nobody wants to be that loser.

The owl pecks me, drawing blood and flies off in a scurry of feathers.

"Well screw you!" I shout at it. "I didn't need you anyway,"

"Oh," I hear, and turn to face the door.

"Oh," I reply. It's Fred.

"I didn't realise you were going to be here." He says.

"It's a free country." I snap. "And anyway I was here first."

"I didn't mean it like that," he tells me.

"Sorry." I blush.

"Alice told me she's left a quill up here and asked me if I would get it for her…" he explains. "But now I think she was just trying to um…" he tails off.

"Yeah." I reply. "That sounds like something she would try to do."

"Yeah…" he echoes. "Sorry I'll be going then."

"You can stay if you want. It's a free country after all."

"Oh. Um…" he replies, eloquently.

"You don't have to." I tell him hurriedly. "I just didn't want to stop you."

"No you weren't. I wasn't. I was just." He starts.

"Or I could go," I tell him, "If you wanted, although I don't really feel like going back to the party."

"No I'll leave," he offers turning to go, as he does though a packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans fall out of his pocket and roll across the floor landing at my feet.

I pick them up and walk over to him.

"You played well today by the way." I tell him, handing the beans over, "You were very, um, beatery."

"Thanks." He responds. "I think."

"And the weather. The weather was good don't you think?" I look outside the window at the grey sky and light drizzle. "I mean bad. The weather was very bad."

I am burbling on about the weather and he is still hovering in the doorway as if every part of him is telling him to leave, but his feet. We're a right pair.

"Do you want one?" he asks me.

"Sorry?" I respond.

"A bean." He tells me. "Do you want one?"

"Oh. Um. Alright then. Yeah. I suppose so,"

He hands the box back to me and I pick out a bean popping it in my mouth I flinch, gagging.

"Liquorice?" He asks me.

I spit it out coughing. "Yeah."

"What happened to us?" he sighs.

"I happened." I offer.

He sighs, "Yeah what were you doing?"

"What do you mean 'what was I doing?" I protest.

"Why did you run away?" he asks, "Why did you kiss me? Why did you do any of it?"

"Excuse me." I object. "You kissed me."

"Hardly." He splutters.

"Yes you did. You kissed me and I'm sorry you seem to regret it so much now, but it happened. You kissed me and then expected me to declare my love for you or something. It was hardly going to happen. You can't blame me for running."

"No I don't suppose I can blame you because I'm just so bloody awful aren't I. You just wanted nothing to do with me."

"Oh shut up." I yell. "You know that's not true, but if you can't believe it then I'll just do you a favour by leaving."

"Why don't you do just that?" he shouts back at me. "I know how good you are at running."


	8. A gay gordon

Chapter Eight

A Gay Gordon

I love winter. I love the smell of a winter morning; the sharp, cool air laced in frost. I love bundling up in a woolly jumper and thick socks, pulling boots and a thick, warm coat over my layers, wrapping a scarf around my neck, pulling a hat over my hair, shoving my hands into mittens and piling outside to catch my breath as my lungs fill with fresh, icy winter winds. I love winter, but I despise Scottish country dancing.

Yes, oh yes, December has returned. That oh so beloved month. I have a theory that God invented Christmas only so as to repay us for our long, hard weeks of laborious, torturous Scottish country dancing. You have not experienced pain unless you have done the St. Bernard's Waltz with Ishaan Peters. You remember him? Yeah he's the boy that's now in Azkaban.

You see, when I was in third year, I had a massive, I mean borderline passive obsessive, crush on Lachlan McCall. Or maybe it was his twin Logan; I don't think I could actually tell them apart.

Oh well the story is I had been lusting after him for two, maybe three, months, which is serious business when you're thirteen, and I had this mad ass idea that I would get to dance with him come December (the only time I have ever or will ever looked forward to Scottish Country dancing.)

It was getting close to the end of the session and I still hadn't plucked up the courage to ask him, due to a serious fear of rejection, when a teacher put the two of us together for a Canadian Barn Dance (we were both in the group of losers left at the end who the teachers have to force together.) Well anyway, as you can imagine, I was ecstatic. This was my chance to prove to him whatever the hell it was that I planned to prove to him.

However, unbeknown to me, we were doing the progressive version of the Canadian Barn Dance, meaning after each time you do the dance you move on to a new partner. So as the music started I was stepping and hopping to my heart's content and was having a thoroughly good time despite my distress over my sweaty palms (how times don't change) until of course it came the point in the set when everybody moves up a pair to their new partner.

I was, of course, pretty upset. I had been separated from my one true love or whatever shit thirteen year old Kira thought Lachlan McCall was to her. That wasn't the worst part though, the worst part was, when the dance ended, I was left with Ishaan Peters as my partner.

Now this is not something to be taken lightly as what McGonagall told us next was to stay with our new partners for a St. Bernard's Waltz. Hence the reason I have waltzed with a convict. It scarred me for life. I haven't looked forward to Scottish Country dancing since (never mind the fact that I had never looked forward to it before.)

So now you understand the hard painful reason that I might be a tad less than excited about doing a spot of dancing. Especially when there is a certain irritating redhead on the loose and no I am not talking about the sexist ginger although he does still pose a threat to my existence as an anti-murder believer in.

As Professor McGonagall likes to remind us every single bloody year we are proud to be a Scottish school and we are proud to continue the traditions and culture of our proud, noble country. This is blatant racism. I am an English girl from a British school who would like to be taught Morris Dancing.

"Let's begin with a Gay Gordon's" says McGonagall in her crisp Scottish accent. "Lady's choice." She adds and we all groan.

I look around, eying up my selection. You don't truly know your place on the social ladder until you look at your partner for dancing. Roxy is a girl with a boyfriend. A Ravenclaw boyfriend no less (everyone knows that Ravenclaw guys are just above and beyond the cool factor.) She has already grabbed Patrick and they are standing in the correct position for the dance. Clementine has taken her cousin Jonah and they are laughing as they try to figure out what they are supposed to be doing. Even Alice who usually stares at the guys as if any second they might eat her up has shuffled over to James and is staring up at him with her big brown puppy-dog eyes. He rolls his eyes at her and drags her over for a dance. Usually I am okay at the whole partner picking malarkey. Three of my best friends are guys, so I can usually rely on a dance from each of them before I really have to start worrying. Not this year though, this year I am the girl who ran away from her ex-almost best friend who she thinks might be the best thing that ever happened to her, but is also very glad to see the back of due to his inability to understand her right to have run in the first place.

"Leon?" I ask hesitantly, approaching my ex-charms partner. Surely he can appreciate the hours we spent together in second year (not by choice, but whatever, without me he still wouldn't be able to alohamora his way out of a situation.)

"Oh, um, sure," he replies, sizing me up.

We walk over to the edge of the circle awkwardly, looking around at the others before putting our arms into position. His hands are icy cold making me feel clammy next to them. We grip each other loosely, it has become a face off to see who can care less.

The music begins.

Forward two three turn. Back two three turn.

"So how have you been?" I ask him, conversationally.

"Fine." He replies, curtly.

"Good." I continue on. "Sixth year treating you well?"

"It's alright." He tells me.

I give up the conversation after that. I guess not everyone is into small talk. I was just trying to be polite, but whatever. No hard feelings. He just better be thinking about me the next time he unlocks a door. Stupid, ungrateful bastard.

The Gay Gordon's is a simple enough dance, but as a girl, you get steadily dizzier as it continues on. The girl is spun round for eight counts every time the set is repeated and let me tell you boy oh boy it is repeated a lot.

The Scots of old seem to have a thing for trying to make girls dizzy. Every dance seems to consist of a good dose of sexist spinning. I guess it was probably some kind of predecessor to date rape.

Who came up with the name for the dance anyway? Whether it's gay in the homosexual sense of the word or the happy sense it's just plain weird. If it's the Homosexual Gordon's then why, may I ask, is it a male/ female dance? Why not male/ male or female/ female? That would be something I could respect. A dance that celebrated ones right to love whoever they may wish to love (or have the misfortune to love in some people's cases, namely me.) But it's not, is it? It's a male/ female dance, therefore conforming to gender stereotypes and not celebrating homosexuality in any way. Then again, if it's the Happy Gordon's then who is this Gordon and why is he so happy? This dance is shit. At least it's not the Gay Kira's because I for one know a Kira who is not feeling at all gay right now.

We run through the Canadian Barn Dance after that and I manage to bag Alex before remembering that it's progressive and realising that I had gained nothing from sprinting across the room and fighting his crowd of fan girls for a dance with him. Oh well, at least I won the fight.

Of course as history likes to repeat itself by reminding me of all my worst moments we do the St. Bernard's Waltz with the partner we land on. Who does history think it is? A dementor? Or worse… a pensieve. The pensieve is allegedly the name of the nightclub where McGonagall has a featuring act as a pole dancer. I think it's just a rumour, but one can never be too sure.

"Very good," the old McGonagallmeister tells us as we finish the dance (I got lobbed with Kenneth Grimes if your wondering, not exactly a convict, in fact he's the entire other end of the spectrum, at least Ishaan had excitement going for him, even if murder isn't the kind of excitement I'm usually after on a Tuesday afternoon.) "Next we are going to do the Dashing White Sergeant. I hope you all remember how to Paddy bah. Remember you are going to be in groups of three; either two ladies and a gentleman or two gentlemen and a lady."

Also may I ask why is it that as soon as we start doing Scottish country dancing we all become ladies and gentlemen? I don't however ask McGonagall this because nobody crosses McGonagall. She takes catty to a whole new level. (See what I did there?)

Before I even have time to consider who to join up with, Alice has dashed (pun intended) over to me, firmly grabbed my hand (and clawed it a tad too) and planted me down right next to Fred. That Alice is one scheming schemester. I for one didn't know she had it in her. Although it does seem to be the kind of theory she would have - if Scottish Country Dancing can't fix a friendship then who knows what can?

The music begins and we go through the steps. Me, trying desperately hard not to put too much thought into Fred's every move and planning to corner Alice after this is all over. Every time Fred's hand holds my own or his arm links mine for a turn, I shiver manically. I really really really hope he can't tell.

Just as the dance ends Fred turns and looks at me right in the eyes and gives me one of those smiles he is so good at before turning and walking away.

"Alice Longbottom." I hiss, turning to glare at my friend. "I swear one day this is going to all come back and bite you right in the heart. I will make damn sure of it."

"I do not know what you are talking about." She tells me innocently before strolling off to find a new partner for the next dance.

By the end of the dancing extravaganza I am hot and sweaty and tired. Scottish Country Dancing is not a sport to be taken lightly. James and Roxy like to make out that quidditch is all hard core, but it is no comparison to what those crazy Scots of old conducted, I guess they were all high on Whisky and Irn Bru (that weird orange drink that Scottish muggles seem to love.)

We all make to leave the great hall when Professor Portcullis, the deputy head, ask us to stay for a moment as she would like to 'have a word' with us. Shit, what have we done this time? I blame Emilie Small.

"Well, as you all know," She begins; Professor Portcullis is head of Ravenclaw and gives McGonagall a run for her money in stern looks and fierce punishments. "You will all be entering the world of work in less than two years time and although you have already embarked in consultations with your heads of houses, we believe that you still aren't prepared enough for the world of work." I don't know why she keeps repeating world of work.

"Many of you still act like you are in the junior part of the school," she stops her monologue to glare around at us all, pausing to stare right at me for six solid seconds (the worst of my life,) before continuing "and don't seem to take in to consideration how vital these next two years are for your future. As such, we have decided to offer one week of work experience to all sixth year students this coming February to help give you insight into the pathway that you may wish to embark upon on your graduation from this school"

Work experience? They sure kept that quiet. It's unheard of. It's insane. It gets me off school for a week in February.

"This is something we will give you a week off school to partake in, (oh my goodness she can read my mind) however you are going to have to make the arrangements for the placement by yourself, I sincerely hope that you will all find the maturity and sense of responsibility to seize this opportunity and make the most of what will be Hogwarts' first trial run of the Work Experience programme."

McGonagall nodded sternly. "Now you may leave."

The hall broke into insane chatter as we all fought to leave. Work Experience? Work Experience! WORK EXPERIENCE. Wow. Now all I need to work out is where the hell was I want to go.


	9. Christmas is a coming

Chapter Nine

Christmas is a coming

The train is crowded as I haul my trunk onto the platform, friends in tow. The students of Hogwarts seem to have multiplied since the summer. First years have gone from shy, scared, sweet little things to sugar high spawn of Voldemort.

Before I even see my family, I am greeted with the delightful sound of my Dad and sister singing Celestina Warbeck's "A cauldron full of hot strong love" at the top of their voices. Oh the joys of coming from a clan of extraterrestrials.

"Three guesses for the owner of that family." Roxy says to me, laughing.

"It's traditional." I shrug.

"Traditional like a Christmas lasagne?" she asks me in return, Roxy has a weird problem with my family's Christmas traditions.

"Shut up." I say, elbowing her in the ribs.

"I'm just going to go say bye to Patrick, ok?" she asks me, "But I'll see you soon. We'll definitely have to meet up before we go back to school."

"Yeah, definitely." I echo, watching as she goes over to Patrick before subsequently sticking her tongue down his throat. "ew." I mutter under my breath.

"Hey," I greet my family as I approach them, breaking up the song (thank Merlin.)

"Where's Carter?" Amelie asks.

"Gee thanks." I reply. "So, what, the song isn't for me anymore?"

"Mmm," she pauses, "No."

"Delightful." I reply. "And to think I've been looking forward to it all year."

"That's a lie." She tells me,

"Yeah," my Dad adds, "If we thought you liked it, do you think we would sing it for you?"

"So true." I sigh.

"Yeah, Kira honey, where is your brother?" my Mum questions me.

"He's probably with the sexist ginger, knowing my luck."

"The sexist who?" smelly asks me.

"If you're really lucky I'll introduce the two of you." I tell her, laughing. "You too midget." I tell my youngest brother. "We could recruit him to the gang. We really need another actor for the Christmas play."

"No no. It's far too late." He tells me.

"Alright," I reply. "You're the boss."

Midget has been the writer/ director/ producer/ lead role of the annual imaginary acting extravaganza for the past three years. I'm planning for him to take it to Hollywood by the time he's nine. Otherwise it's going to be too late for him.

"Oh there's trolley," I sigh, pointing at my brother as I finally spot him. He's not with the sexist ginger. In fact, he's with two girls, a blonde and a brunette. The latter waving her hands around, sharing a rather animated anecdote.

"Do you mind getting him Kira? We should probably get going." My Mum asks me and I go over to where my dearest trolley is situated.

"Hey dude." I approach him, "Mum's getting a bit pernickety and I for one would like to leave before another verse of good old Celestina ensues."

"Oh hey Kira," he replies, smiling at me.

"This is my sister." He tells the two girls. "She's in sixth year."

"Hi!" squeaks the blonde.

"I'm Jane," adds the animated brunette, "And this is Bridget."

"Kira." I reply, repressing the urge to shake either of their hands.

"So where do you two know my dearest brother from? Please don't say he's your mutual friend, mutual being Fergus French-Davies, henceforth being known as the sexist ginger."

"Um… we're not really friends with Fergus if that's what you're asking." Jane informs me.

"Ugh, he is so annoying!" Bridget adds.

"Agreed." I tell her. I think I like these friends of Carter's a lot more than the only other one I have had the misfortune to meet. Who for the record adressed me as angel face the other day. One word - ugh.

"Oh, there's my Mum." Jane says, beckoning at a women with dark hair.

"Bridget are you coming?" she adds.

"See you next year Carter." Bridget says.

"Yeah have a nice holiday. it was nice meeting you Kira." Jane adds.

"See you." He replies and then they leave, blending into the crowd of Hogwarts students.

"So… Who are they?" I question trolley instantly as we make our way over to our family.

"Jane and Bridget." He replies most unhelpfully.

I roll my eyes at him. "Where did you meet? What houses are they in? Who else are they friends with? Who else are you friends with? Does this mean you're no longer friends with the sexist ginger?"

"Whoa." He replies, "Too many questions. Um… Jane's a Gryffindor, Bridget's a Hufflepuff. They're best friends, I think they're parents are friends. They knew each other before Hogwarts anyway." He looks at me questioningly.

"Where did you meet?" I reply.

"Jane sat next to me at the start of term feast. She asked me to study one time and it kind of became a regular thing and she's always with Bridget when she's not at the Gryffindor table or common room."

"Are either of them friends with the infamous SG?" I ask. I don't know, but the sexist ginger just felt like it was too long.

He laughs. "He really annoys Bridget, but then she really annoys him. Um… Jane and Fergus and I all sort hang out in the Gryffindor common room and Jane and Fergus get on alright. I think she finds him quite funny actually. He is funny, Kira. I just don't think you quite understood him. That's all."

"Sure," I say rolling my eyes again.

By this time we have reached our family and my mum is engulfing Carter into a massive hug. You know a massive hug which I did not receive, thanks Mum.

"Trolley!" Amelie screams, joining in with the hug. Also please note here, I set this trolley trend a going.

I try to hug Daniel to make me feel better, but he brushes me off. He is a particularly untouchy-feely person. Except when it comes to kiss chase.

The plan is to muggle it up and take a tube to the leaky cauldron where dad can go on into Diagon Alley and finish work in his office above Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and the rest of us can floo on home. Mum's already finished work for the holiday. She works in some sort of advertising department in the ministry (she's the reason that quidditch matches are now ten parts advert one part quidditch. It's nice to know I have a mother who's making a difference in the world.) Dad, however, hosts a radio show and he is working right up until Christmas Eve.

Plans, however, can change. Sometimes you have to go with it. Especially when you are the Jordan family who as of yet have failed to do anything right.

So we made it to the tube station. I'll give us that.

"You forgot the money!" my parents shout at each other at the same time. Daniel rolls his eyes.

"How could you forget the money for the tickets?" My Mum asks my Dad. "That was the one thing I asked you to do."

"No," he insists. "You asked me to buy the groceries. Which I did. And I agreed to make the lasagne. You were going to get the muggle money for the train tickets."

"Could you say that any louder?" I ask my dad sarcastically,

"How are we meant to get to the Leaky Cauldron then?" my Mum asks him sighing, looking at him with that pointed glare that she reserves for occasions such as these.

"I don't know how are we meant to get there?" He asks in return.

"If it helps, I have four knuts." Amelie chips in.

"It doesn't help." Mum tells her, "but thanks honey it's very sweet of you."

"Is it very sweet of me if I tell you I'm broke?" I ask.

"No." my parents say together.

"Just checking." I respond.

"What are we supposed to do?" Mum hisses at Dad. "We can't exchange money anywhere except Gringott's which we can't get to because we don't have any money for a train."

"If I apparate," he says, "I could go to Gringott's and return with muggle money."

"Where are you going to apparate from?" she responds. "There are muggles everywhere and the platform will have closed by now."

"Can we walk?" he asks her in return. "How far is it?"

"Quite far." She replies. "I think. Anyway, I don't know the way."

"Kira, any ideas?" my dad asks me with a pleading expression.

My entire family turn to face me with puppy dog eyes that would put Alice to shame.

"Um…" I start, just the goddess of eloquent.

I'm not exactly brimming with ideas, but I can't let them know that.

"Oh." I gasp. "Harry has a phone doesn't he?" my parents nod uncertainly. "Well they were driving weren't they? I think that's what James said. So if there's a way we could call him, then they could try give us a lift.

"Yeah…" my Mum says, pausing to think. "I think I've still got his number in here somewhere," she says, rifling through her bag.

"Here!" She exclaims, producing a crumpled piece of parchment from the bottom of the endless pit that is her handbag. "At least I think so, this looks like a phone number."

"Brilliant!" My dad cries. "We don't have a phone."

"Shit." Curses my mum, "I mean Ship." She tells us, as if we've never heard her swear before.

"Couldn't we ask a muggle to borrow their phone?" Amelie questions, gesturing at the many muggles making their way around us who are rapidly typing into the strange contraptions.

"Brilliant!" my dad says again, "I knew there was a reason we kept you around."

"Kira, do you mind asking someone to borrow their phone?" he asks me.

"Why is it that you get me to do all of your dirty work for you?" I question my parents.

My mum sighs at me before giving one of those pointed looks.

"Fine," I moan. "Who should I ask?"

My mum points me over to a middle aged woman who has just come off a mobile phone and is now checking the map of the underground.

I make my way over to her, trying not to be nervous. I don't generally get scared talking to people, but I really don't like asking for favours, especially from strangers.

"Excuse me." I begin. She doesn't respond.

"Excuse me." I try again.

"Oh," she exclaims, turning around to face me, "Sorry are you talking to me?"

"Um yes… sorry, um, I was, we were," I say gesturing towards my family, "just wondering if we could borrow your phone. You see we were meant to be meeting a friend and they haven't showed, but my parents don't have there er phones with them." I manage to stutter out. The story I've made up isn't so far from the truth is it?

"Oh, sweetie, of course. I'm not sure if you'll get good reception down here though."

Reception? Oh well whatever, she's going to let me use the phone.

"Thank you!" I squeal, "Thank you so much!"

She comes over to my family with me and helps my mum type in the number, god she must think we're weird. Well I suppose we are kind of weird.

"Harry!" I hear my mum say. Wow, she really is managing to speak to him on that little thing.

"It's Alicia. Thank god you're not driving. Well, the thing is we're sort of trapped in an underground station. Yeah Lee forget the money." She pauses and then laughs. My dad is frowning and the muggle woman is eying me curiously. Oh yeah my made up story – why did I even bother? The way my Mum's telling it doesn't sound that odd at all.

"Yeah." My Mum says down the phone. "Ok."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

"If that's okay."

"Well thank you very much."

"I'll see you soon."

"Okay. Bye."

Mum hangs up the phone and passes it back to the muggle woman gratefully.

"Thank you so much." She says. "I can't believe we forget money. Silly isn't it?"

The woman assures her that it could happen to anyone, although she is still eyeing us oddly. Oh god, muggles can get money from those strange machines in the walls can't they? Oh well, what's one more person wandering around wondering why the Jordans are so clinically insane?

We heave me and Carter's trunks back up the stairs and out onto the street and promptly sit down on them, waiting for the Potter's to arrive and save us. At least they all have hero syndrome - that has always made it easier for us when we have to ask them to rescue us. We ask a considerable amount of favours from the Potters for people who are only our kind of friends.

We manage to inconvenience all of the Christmas shoppers by taking up more of our fair share of pavement space. Smelly and I are budged together on my trunk, attempting to play exploding snap. I am going on the grounds that the Ministry have more important things to worry about at the moment than the exposure of magic to muggles. Smelly agrees. Midget doesn't. He started reciting laws to us - word for word - kind of worrying for a six year old. I think we need to get him tested. Trolley is trying to read his book and ignore the insanity that surrounds him. Carter is the polar opposite of confrontational.

Finally the Potter's arrive. Apologising profusely about the traffic and somehow managing to squeeze us into the car. My parents can't say how sorry they are enough times and I am struggling to breathe due to the not one, but two siblings I have on top of me. I said squeeze, didn't I?

We are dropped off at the Leaky Cauldron with all of the seasonal tidings and then they leave, thanking Merlin that they have seen the back of us, at least I imagine they are. I know I sure as hell would be.

We manage to successfully get rid of Dad and floo home. We're the only ones using the fireplace at the Leaky because oh yeah, everyone else who has no other method of transport already left like TWO HOURS ago. At least we've got the Potters. If it weren't for them we'd all be doomed. Literally.

The house smells like burning when we arrive home.

"Shit!" my Mum screams. "The gingerbread!"

"Mum!" Amelie groans. "I thought you'd taken them out the oven."

"I guess not." My mum laughs.

The kitchen stinks and I open the window, taking in the view that I haven't seen in so long.

"You know what?" I ask my family.

"What?" my Mum replies from where she's wafting the oven with a tea towel.

"I've really missed you guys."


End file.
